


Jean-Timothée de Chalamet

by MarionMinette



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-25 21:23:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarionMinette/pseuds/MarionMinette
Summary: Jean-Timothée de Chalamet is the heir of the family. He comes back in Versailles, France at his grandparents estate for the summer. And maybe to finally speak to their poolboy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello y'all ! So I'm french and I live in Versailles, very well known for its palace but aside of the palace Versailles is a city with a lot broken student living mixed up with rich and very old families. It kind of makes me want to write about it (because well, sometimes it gets very funny) since I know both sides (me the former broken student) and my old and rich neighbours (which have a life clearly similar to Jean-Timothée family, I'm barely making things up sometimes haha) 
> 
> And of course since Marc, Nicole, Pauline and Timothée aren't used in rich and old family (well maybe Marc is) I added a "Jean" before Marc and Timmy's names and a "Marie" before Pauline's name too make it sound more "Versaillais" and I added a particule to make them sound even more rich and old. Aaaand that's why "Jean-Timothée de Chalamet". 
> 
> I hope you'll have some fun reading this !  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some french words in it so here is the translation : 
> 
> "mon garçon" = "my boy" I don't know why but all of the grandpa in my neighbourhood called their grandson like that, it's really old fashioned  
> "Grand-maman" & "Grand-papa" = "Grandma" & "Grandpa" in a VERY formal way, we call them "mamie" & "papy" in most of families  
> "Père" = "Dad" in a VERY formal way, we say "papa" in most of families  
> "rue Royale" = "Royale street" it is a well known street in Versailles with a lot of little independent shop (very expensive) and so cute  
> "bon chic bon genre" = "posh" "preppy"  
> "grand salon" = "big living-room"  
> "petit salon = "small living-room"  
> "Versaillais" = People who live in Versailles, but it could be something negative too, like somebody too uptight  
> "amour et d'eau fraîche" = it's a french expression "vivre d'amour et d'eau fraîche" it's means "living of love and water" so it's having nothing but being happy because we are with our lover

 

  **CHAPTER ONE**

 

 

Grand-maman was so happy he decided to spend his two and half months of vacation with them. Little did she know.  
His father asked him to think about his life turning point. What did he want to make of his new career ? After all, he did play a first role in a movie, only distributed in USA but still, the movie turned into a must-see this spring. All his life he thought he was born to sell barbed wire for their family worldwide company but being an actor made him feel complete. He told his father he would go to Versailles, in France at his grandparents, spend his summer to turn things over in his head away from the media. His father was so please to see so much maturity in his young son. Little did he know. 

“Grand-maman, how do you do ?”  
“Jean-Timothée ! I am so pleased to hear you my little darling ! I am superbly well, what about you ? How do you do ?”  
“I am great, thank you grand-maman. Père took my airline ticket, do you know if you will come to the airport or would you rather send me somebody ? I could take an Uber too.”  
“Darling, don’t you worry about it all, Jean-Marc called us this morning, Armand was here, you know, the gardener ?”

Oh yes, he knew. 

“Yes ?” he was trying to sound the more detached possible but his voice was shivering.  
“He offers to go to the airport and pick you up you know darling, this young man is so amiable ! I do not know how we would manage this estate without him. But we are so eager to see you with your grand-papa and I needed begonia so Armand will purchase those while Jacques and me come to pick you up.”

He wanted to piss on all the begonia in the world.

“Oh well, that is fine ! I tell you good-bye and see you tomorrow. I embrace you and grand-papa with great affection.”  
“See you tomorrow little darling, we have a huge surprise for you ! Bye now.”

The huge surprise will probably be a stupid dinner at the de Lesquen or the Lebrun, their neighbours and friends, to finally find him a nice and well mannered girlfriend who would be the family proudness with nobody knowing the half of Versailles tasted her. Her wonderful not-so-pure peach already too ripe for her age. 

Versailles dinner meant uptighted outfit, formal language, hours of talking about the magnificence of their family and about the importance of keeping their patrimoine in the family. Secretly he was hoping Marie-Pauline will one day rule the family business, not him. This way he could live d’amour et d’eau fraîche in the cabin at this end of the garden with Armie and his exquisite back. Well, he IMAGINED his back was exquisite because (and to his great misfortune) the only week he spent at Versailles last summer didn’t grant him the time to taste it with his mouth, only his eyes have been able to savour each parcel of it.  
…

The journey have been way too long, the food was too industrial and his ass was sore for being sit for too long. Jean-Timothée had enough of it. He wanted to be in Versailles, take a bath, have a cigarette and listen to the silence. But of course his grandparents prepared him a fucking surprise, his life was definitively only suffering and disappointment.  
The car trip was long and his grand-maman couldn’t stop herself anymore. 

“I asked to the head chef from la rue Royale to make your favorite course Jean-Timothée. I would love to cook it myself but the bridge dragged out. Do you remember Lisette de Caille et Baumont ? Well, know that Hector, her husband, got a passion for racing car. Poor her, she could not get over it, this is so nouveau riche, we did not know what to tell her. Anabelle wanted to not invited the de Caille et Baumont to our parties anymore, she was afraid Hector tried to invite our husbands to car racing but what can we do about it ? Hector handle most of the Lions club members patrimoine.” 

He deeply wanted Hector to go fuck himself. 

“Marie-Jeanne, please let Jean-Timothée be, he must be exhausted and he needs to rest a little for the soirée, right mon garçon ?”  
“Do not worry grand-papa, I am pleased to have some news about everyone.” 

Bullshit. Jean-Timothée couldn’t care less. His only wishes were silence and solitude, his only preoccupations were if this time he’ll manage to speak to Armand and do it without dribbling or stamming. 

He has missed the estate. Missed the perfume of the garden mixed with the cooking smell and his grand-maman Chanel n°5. Missed the so bon chic bon genre interior and all the old fireplaces. In this house there were unmovable certitudes, of family accomplishment but also of love and pride. Memories piled up like empty plastic bag in the cupboard in his New York City house. There was his height curve as well as his father and sister on the door frame leading to the grand salon where all the family reunited for some pre-dinner drinks, where everybody would piled up to read on a rainy sunday afternoon but it was also the place where he celebrated all his christmas and birthday parties.  
He was wondering if Armand was still at home, if he could catch a sight of him before being drag to the huge surprise not-so-surprising. The grand salon lead to the petit salon renamed the reading room which was leading to his grand-maman big greenhouse.  
Maybe he could sneak in the reading room without being noticed ? 

“Mon garçon ? Would you like to come to the reading room to let us introduce you our huge surprise ?”  
“Jacques ? Are you sure ? Do you not want to rest some minutes before my little darling ?”  
“Come on Marie-Jeanne, no de Chalamet needs resting when he is expected somewhere.”  
“Do not worry grand-maman. I follow you grand-papa.”

Like he would let a chance like that pass.  
He tried to walk slowly, nonchalantly. Just in case Armand would be in the greenhouse. He didn’t want to seemed like a tall barbed wire stressed and exhausted. His eyes steered despite himself towards the greenhouse, he was here. He could see his back, he wore his eternal white t-shirt with sleeves way too short which let appear his arms muscled by his work. Jean-Timothée forgot to breathe. Even seen from the back, dirty and focused, he made him want to laugh and cry.  
It had, however, taken him a quarter of a second to forget the very existence of Armie. 

It was here. In front of him.  
The surprise.  
La fucking surprise. 

Just above the reading room fireplace.  
A painting.  
A huge painting. 

A huge painting of Jean-Timothée presided, like the reading room centerpiece.  
It was paint from a picture his dad ordered few months ago, he never really knew why, he thought of the latest fad of his mom. 

Jean-Timothée was facing his painted double, in his Sunday best, bon chic bon genre. Handsome but so uptight. He adored the clothes he picked up for the photoshoot, but not like that, not with this pose, not with this satisfied smile. He looked so versaillais, so de Chalamet. 

“For now on Jean-Timothée, you have a place of choice, you are the heir of this estate, this family and our company. Forever your portrait will watch over our family patrimoine. We are so proud of you Jean-Timothée.”  
“Oh.. Eum… Well… Thanks. Thank you so much. I will make my best to never disappointed you and the family grand-papa.”  
“I do not doubt about that mon garçon.” 

And then it hits him.  
Armie must have seen this painting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is translation/explication for french words : 
> 
> Fillon" = it's a politician french man "François Fillon" with HUGEEE eyes bows (you can google him, it's fun) (french people made loads of jokes about it while the presidential campaign)

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

Every morning he drove his bike to the de Chalamet, Viroflay-Versailles, 5,2km. Some ugliness in Viroflay, a lot a beautifulness in Versailles. So close and yet so distant towards the appearance. Every morning he thought the same thing : money could buy everything.  
He thought of the de Chalamet and their fortune earned over time thanks to the invention of barbed wire and its commercialization around the world. Everytime this realization came up he thought the same thing : which asshole could invented a thing like that ? A thread that prick.  
Fortune was a joke. Sometimes all you needed was a dumb idea and you could offer to your descendants on god knows how many generations a superior way of life, superior dreams, superior aspirations. 

He had his own dream, a starred restaurant in Paris with his plat signature : crocodile meat with its broccoli and its carrot coulis. But his studio was so expensive, his night out too, no need to mention the price of his crocodile meat and his savings for his future restaurant, all of that was still possible due to his gardener and poolboy job at the de Chalamet and sometimes their neighbours. 

He liked the de Chalamet, especially when granny was reading alone in the reading room without minding him and when gramps was at the club. Even if the family was extremely rich they always were polite and cheerful, but above all, he didn’t forget the family heir. He would have love to erase this boy from his thoughts, after all he never spoke to him. Yet, every time he drove through l’avenue de Paris and was facing the immensity of the Versailles palace he couldn’t get him out of his head. He has never been anywhere with that boy, he has never crossed his gaze more than two seconds, he has never been alone with that boy in a room and despite all of this, the boy was here, in his head. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t obsession, he thought the boy was out of sync with the whole world, not in a bad way, but a bit muddled, head in the clouds, he always seemed to think too much, too quickly, like he just landed on the planet he never heard of. The boy seemed to be beautiful and yet so fragile.

And like every time he thought of this stupid boy, his missed the road. What a good morning. 

…

\- Oh Armand, you are here ! Could you please help us move this package to the reading room please ?  
\- Of course ma’am, let me take care of it ! 

Armie wondered what could be this huge paint far too heavy. Not a portrait of gramps please lord.

\- Help me remove all this protection please Armand, if you do not mind. We must install this portrait with the delivery man before Jacques comes back from the club, he will be so pleased to see it ! 

That was it ! Just like he expected, a portrait of gramps with his eyes bows in the Fillon style.  
He wasn’t sure this kind of task was a part of his contract, but they paid him way too much and above all she took the time to ask him with a please. Again, what a good morning.  
With the last protection removed, Armie’s day took an unexpected turn. 

Yes, he was facing a portrait, but a portrait of Jean-Timothée, not gramps.

Shit.  
He was as beautiful as ridiculous.  
But was he really ridiculous ?  
Every human being would be really ridiculous at this age in those outfits.  
But him.  
Fuck.  
He wanted to laugh from relief, cry from frustration and beat himself up for feeling these things towards a boy he only saw one week and never spoke to.  
Fuck. 

\- Oh but... is it you grandson ?  
\- Yes it is ! I am so happy I ordered this painting ! He is coming tomorrow evening, his father warn me at the last minute of course but now he will discoverer it by himself here, he will be so proud to see himself like that, so handsome above the fireplace ! 

What ? 

\- Tomorrow evening ?  
\- Yes, just before dinner, I reserved the head chef of la rue Royale, nothing is good enough for my little darling  
\- It doesn’t let you much time to organise everything, do you want me to go grab him at the airport ? You would have more time to be ready 

Please.

\- Oh that is so nice of you Armand, but do not worry. However, if it is okay for you, could you go buy some begonia while we will be at the airport ? I would like more of those in the garden

He wanted to choke her on all the begonia in the world. 

\- No problem ma’am

…..

They soon will be home with Jean-Timothée, he dawdle all the day in the huge estate to be sure to have still some work to do in the evening. He wanted to see the boy to exorcise himself. He wasn’t really worried, thinking of the portrait in the reading room the boy must have had get a big head since last year. He was probably like all those versaillais now, too intelligent for his own good, too full of himself for the good of the others. He will see him, will find him ridiculous, will want to punch him in the face and then he will go home fuck Sophie or Nathan to celebrate it all. There, he has a good plan. 

He heard the doorway. They were coming. The kitchen was not the most strategic place for him to be. What would a gardener do in the kitchen at this hour ? And more important, he will not see a single thing. The best would be to be in the greenhouse from where he could see granny and gramps present the portrait to Jean-Timothée in the reading room. There again, a good plan.  
Granny was exulting, to the sound of her voice Armie knew she was more than happy to have her grandson in Versailles for two and half months. Gramps too was at the top of his shape, he was giving so much in order to make Jean-Timothée the perfect de Chalamet heir. Lucky him, his parents only asks of him to be happy, Armie couldn’t ever keep up with this kind of pression. 

And then, he saw him.  
He was here.  
He saw his back until he turns up to talk to his grandfather. He couldn’t see Armie hidden in the greenhouse darkness, but Armie saw it all. 

He hadn’t change. Fuck.  
He was here, with his hair slightly longer, messy on his head, he wore simple blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Fuck.  
Nothing in common with the painting.  
He looked like a fearful kitten but still curious who doesn’t know yet what to do with his four paws. Armie was more of a tall labrador kind, intelligent enough to have culture and opinions but not enough to have this sad look that all too intelligent people have. He could flatter himself to be happy most of the time. 

Will he watch some YouTube video tonight of kittens playing with tall labrador ? Probably.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello you !  
> So here is the chapter three :) 
> 
> Here is some french words translated and explanation you might need : 
> 
> Connard : Asshole  
> Marie-Antoinette : I guess everybody know her but I don't know how much foreign country knows about french history, so sorry if you already knew it but it is one of the most famous queen of France, she was living in the palace of Versailles so in the city there is a lot of M-A references  
> Royauté : Royalty  
> le Montansier : It's a BEAUTIFUL and old theater next to the palace of Versailles  
> de Lesquen : They are a very well known family in Versailles (and sometimes in France) they do politics and are VERY racist and VERY homophobic

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

“Armand ! You are still here ! Comme say hello to Jean-Timothée!”  
“Marie-Jeanne, I am sure Armand has a lot to do”  
“Nonsense ! Come say hello Armand. After all Jean-Timothée is our heir, he needs to familiarize with our personnel, Jacques.”

Jean-Timothée was petrified. Not only his grandparents has no idea of their own condescension but he also was about to say his first words to Armand in front of that hideous portrait. How could this get any worse ? 

“Yes ma’am ! I’m coming ! Nice to meet you mister Jean-Timothée, was your journey alright ?” 

Jean-Timothée would have rather die from an heart attack than to say one word to Armie being dirty, smelly, jet-lagged and with his grandparents in the same room ? 

“Hi ! Nice to…to meet you too” 

Of course he had to stutter. Could this get even worse ? 

“Nice painting you got here.” 

Yes, it could. 

“Oh, yes, I mean… Yes thank you, I…I love it.”  
“I bet you do.” 

Where was the closest cemetery ? He needed to get there and dig his own grave this very night. He was sure Armand was thinking of him like all those versaillais. He wanted to throw up. Or maybe die. 

“Anyway, madame, monsieur de Chalamet, I got to get home. My parents invited me over dinner. Have a nice evening.”  
“Oh how wonderful Armand ! Say hello to your dear parents and have a nice evening too.”  
“Thank you madame de Chalamet”

Jean-Timothée hoped they had a huge shovel in the garden cabin to dig his grave as fast as possible. 

…

The dinner was a torture, the de Lesquen came with their last unmarried granddaughter, Marie-Charlotte, she was sitting next to Jean-Timothée and couldn’t stop talking about her family patrimoine hoping for Jean-Timothée to be interested. But he prefered to discreetly listen to his grandfather talking to his guest, especially when they were talking about him. 

“He called himself Timothée Chalamet in Hollywood because I guess those people doesn’t like families like us, working for generations to extend their patrimoine. You know his agent told him it was better for his image to look like a nice normal boy, my Jean-Timothée, could you believe it ? He will become a shark in business like all the de Chalamet. Those people can’t stand us but secretly they just want to be like us, you know.”  
“That is the problem with the United States. This is a young country, they have no history, no values. To be part of an old french family is out of their league.”  
“Yes, that is it… The country of freedom… What a joke. They just have no past.”  
“But Jacques, are you sure Jean-Timothée will work in your company ? Because he is a young man, Hollywood can just wash his brain. Are you not afraid ?”  
“Listen to me Henry, no de Chalamet is an Hollywood prostitute. It is good for him right now, it helps him understand how business works, but the boy has no wish of making a career of it.” 

Jean-Timothée was mad. How his grandfather, with whom he had never had a single conversation about who he really was and what he really wanted, could ever talk like that about him ? He just wanted to get the hell out of this table and go to bed. But Marie-Charlotte couldn’t stop chattering. 

“You see Jean-Tim, all of the girls in my family had more boys than girls, mère says it is because of our genes.”  
“Marie-Charlotte, if you had paid attention sometimes in biology class, you’ll know the gender of the child is determined by the father, not the mother.”  
“Yes but mère says it is made up by the government.”  
“And tell me, please, why would the government do that ? To have the vote of all the spermatozoon ?”  
“How can you talk about those things ?”  
“Oh come on, I know you lost your virginity in the backstage of le Montansier when you were fourteen.”  
“WHAT ? How could you talk like that ?”  
“Grand-maman, Marie-Charlotte is telling me how she loved to visit the backstage area in le Montansier when she was in school, could you arrange a visit for me please ?”  
“Oh of course my little darling, I know everyone here.”  
“Thank you so much grand-maman.”  
“You are an asshole Jean-Timothée.”  
“And you are a lying slut Marie-Charlotte. Grand-maman, I am very tired, could you please excuse me ?”  
“Of course my little darling, say goodbye to Marie-Charlotte and go off to bed ! Maybe you two can catch up tomorrow ?”  
“Oh I would love to grand-maman but Marie-Charlotte was telling me she had a banana testing tomorrow, maybe another day.”  
“Oh really ? Tell me more about it Marie-Charlotte, and goodnight my little darling.” 

Jean-Timothée left the dinner room hearing a nice “connard” whispered by Marie-Charlotte which he replied by a “have fun with your cock-sucking session at Archibald’s tomorrow darling” and a kiss on her cheek which delighted his grand-maman before leaving. Finally, he was about be in a bed. 

…

Jean-Timothée was sitting at his desk, still jet-lagged. The only thing he could do was petting the two cats of his grandma, Marie-Antoinette and Royauté and watching Armand cleaning the pool. He had a stunning view on him and he was daydreaming. He had to find a stratagem to talk to him without his grandparents being there and without him looking like a zombie.  
He was wondering is Armand was seeing him like an execrable and condescending heir. In a way he hoped Armand saw him like that, it would be easy to make him change his mind since he was not that kind of heir. Nevertheless he didn’t know a single thing about Armand and people tend to judge other people way too easily.  
He didn’t dare to go swimming, he was way to skinny with the muscles of a eleven years old. He would have loved having a body just as Armand, tall and athletic. But no, genetic offered him a body with no fat and no muscles. When he was mad he looked more like an angry wet kitten than an hungry pitbull. He was wondering if, one day, somebody would ever take him seriously. 

But he wanted so bad to be friend with Armand, to have one normal friend here in Versailles. He sure wanted him in every way but it was another story. But he wouldn’t want to be a burden for Armand and bother him while he was working. But he had to find a way to talk to him and give him clue about who he really was and how open he was about all the possibilities in this relationship. He needed a cold shower to think. 

…

Jean-Timothée had a fucking plan. A really really good one. He was walking towards the garden with a book to talk to Armie and tell him in a very classy way he liked men. It was a good plan. Jean-Timothée was walking on clouds. 

“Oh hi mister Jean-Timothée!” 

Armie fell right into the trap, Jean-Timothée was inwardly ecstatic and externally sure of himself. 

“Hello Armand, but please don’t call me like that. Tim, Timmy, Timothée or even Sébastien would be really better.”  
“Oh.. Okay, you can call me Armie!” 

Jean-Timothée wanted to cry. Armie didn’t seem to understand him. He was being so CLEAR, how could he not understand ? He wasn’t sure he could ever be clearer. After all, Saint Sébastien was the saint patron of homosexuals, how could Armand have missed it ? 

“Okay... Armie.”  
“So what are you up to today?”  
“Well, I don’t have a lot of friends in Versailles so I was just planning to read this book in the garden.”  
“You don’t go out ? There is so much to do here in the summer!”  
“Yeah, but I don’t like to do things on my own and there is no way I’ll go to the club with grand-papa.”  
“I can see why. So you don’t go out at night either?”  
“To do what ? Be in a late rallye with a bunch of people I don’t like?”  
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound full of fun.”  
“Believe there is no fun at all at these events.”  
“I tell you what, you have to come to le Montbauron.”  
“Le Montbauron?”  
“That’s a bar where you can play billiards. A lot of students meet there because the wine is good and cheap.”  
“That sounds great.”  
“Come with me tonight if you want to, I can do nothing for your afternoon but I can help you with your night.”  
“There will be your friends too?”  
“I don’t know, but since it’s summer most of my friends are in their home state.”  
“Oh, right, ok. Let’s meet tonight then.” 

Jean-Timothée couldn’t believe it. He had a date tonight with Armie, well, not a date, but still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely hoped you enjoyed it !


End file.
